A Little More Than Kin

by.
D.L. Solomon

DISCLAIMER: Mickey Kostmayer is the property of the creators and writers of The Equalizer and Universal Televsion. No copyright infringement is intened.

This story first appeared in The Equalizer Report 3, published by Rachelle Stein. Some minor changes have been made by the author.

"A Little More Than Kin"
The Equalizer
Selyf
(c) 1998

There were five of them on the mission. Kostmayer, the leader, gathered the others around him. "We have to be careful going through the woods tonight," he said. "We've had several successful missions lately, so they're sure to have extra sentries posted. And more patrols. Be alert."

They began their trek through the forest, their black clothing and darkened faces helping them blend in with their surroundings. It was a warm August night and a half moon provided just enough light to aid their progress.

Soon the men were within sight of the objective: a railroad trestle. Their assignment was to destroy the bridge, thus eliminating one of the enemy's transport lines.

Kostmayer had suggested that they needn't stop there. A train was due to travel on that line, carrying soldiers, supplies, and ammunition. "We'll cause them one more inconvenience while we're at it," he'd said, and his superiors had agreed. After all, why blow up a bridge by itself when they could wait until the train was traveling across it?

With the trestle in sight, the fighters gathered around Kostmayer once again. "There'll be at least four guards," he told them. "We have less than two hours before the train gets here. After you kill the guard, take his gun and ammo. We need all the weapons we can get."

No further instructions were necessary now. The men split up. Kostmayer stayed behind to check his own ammunition. His people not only needed guns, they also could not afford to waste explosives. This would be their only chance at this target for a long time. And they had to do everything possible to hinder the invaders.

Since the war had begun, the young man often wondered if there was more that he could do. But he could only follow orders. He was good at that. One of his superiors confided that when plans were made for this mission, all agreed that it was dangerous and nearly impossible. The man who accepted the assignment would have to be a little crazy. Naturally, Kostmayer's name came up.

He smiled at that memory. There was no doubt that he *was* a little crazy. Perhaps that came from having nothing left to lose.

The others had begun to return. They had worked rapidly and quietly, using only their hands and knives to dispose of the guards. They were a good team, the best Kostmayer had ever worked with. Of course he was somewhat prejudiced. He had handpicked them and had assisted in their training.

All were accounted for. Now to the task of setting the explosives. In many ways, this was the most dangerous job. They had to work in the dark, placing the dynamite on the supports of the trestle, with little light to guide them. But in less than an hour, they had the explosives in place and the wires were being run to the detonator. "Good work, " said Kostmayer. "From here on, I'm on my own. The rest of you report back to headquarters."

The youngest of the group, a boy named Adam, protested. "You ought to have one of us stay with you."

"No! If anything goes wrong, our people cannot afford to lose any more men than necessary. Go!"

The others recognized the tone of voice and knew there would be no more arguments. They turned to go. Adam hesitated. Though he was a seasoned fighter, he was still a boy in many ways. Adam had known Kostmayer for years and almost worshipped the older man. As he finally turned, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"If I don't return," Kostmayer said softly, "you know what to do."

The young man nodded. "I know. Take care of Anna. Good luck," he offered, then moved to catch up with the others.

Now Kostmayer was alone.

He lay on his belly, watching and listening, waiting for the train. There was no question about remaining awake and alert. He had conditioned himself to handle these jobs. But recently, his mind often wandered to other things. How much longer could they hold out, these people battling for their homeland? The invading troops kept coming. There seemed to be more and more of them each day.

Well, at least after tonight, there would be a few less.

And, after this assignment, there was another mission that Kostmayer wanted to accomplish: getting Adam out of the war. Something he had failed to do for Adam's sister.

"Don't think about that, Kostmayer," he warned himself. "Don't think about *her*. Stay alert."

The vigil lasted only a few minutes more. The train was coming. Kostmayer was ready, his hand on the detonator. The timing was crucial. Too early and the cargo might not be destroyed. Too late and too many survivors in the forward cars. The train approached the bridge. Before the locomotive reached the middle, Kostmayer set off the explosives.

It was perfect. He watched for a second, gratified by the sight of the trestle crumbling, the train derailed and plunging into the river below. His only regret was that, while the enemy lost those supplies, his people would not be able to retrieve them.

Then, he was gone, escaping through the forest. He could waste no time. Not all of the cars were destroyed and troops from those would fan out, searching for the saboteurs. Kostmayer heard shouts and a burst of gunfire. They were shooting at anything, in all directions. Maybe the bastards would shoot each other, he thought.

Kostmayer figured that he was out of range when more shots and sharp pain in his left thigh changed his mind. He managed to keep from crying out or falling, and continued to run. The sounds from the trestle began to fade, but he kept a steady pace, ignoring the pain and the blood running down his leg.

* * * * *

"Michal?" A feminine voice came to Kostmayer from the darkness.

"Over here, Anna," he answered.

A young woman made her way to his side. "You shouldn't be out here," she said, reprimanding him. "You're still not well. You're recovering from a gunshot wound."

"I'm all right, Anna."

She studied him for a moment, then gently placed a hand on his arm. "What is it, Michal? I know you still have some pain from your injury. It was only a week ago. But there is something else."

He gave her a crooked smile. Anna reminded him so much of her sister. Not in appearance. Anna and Adam looked alike, with their blond hair and hazel eyes. Halina, their older sister, had been brunette with clear blue eyes. But Halina and Anna were similar in actions and personality, and both of them had always been able to read his moods. He sometimes wondered why he had fallen in love with Halina instead of Anna.

As his silence continued, Anna tried a different approach. "Is it the mission that the others went on tonight? Are you worried about Adam? Or maybe you just want to be with them?"

"Maybe," he replied, knowing that she would see through the answer. He went on, confiding in her -- just as he had done for years. "It *is* Adam," he conceded. "And you. I want you both safe and out of this. I want you to leave Poland."

Anna shook her head. "Michal, this is our home. We want to stay and fight for Poland -- just as you do."

"But I was already in the army when this started. You and Adam --and Halina -- you were just kids. I should have gotten all of you to go when my family left the country."

"I think you did the right thing, getting them to America before the invasion. Your brother and sister and your cousins were so young. But even at the age of fourteen, Adam knew that he had to stay here. So did I." She paused. "So did Halina."

Kostmayer turned away. "Do you know what tomorrow is, Anna?" He did not wait for a reply. "September 1, 1942. Three years since the Germans invaded Danzig. If I had made you leave, Halina would be alive." He voice broke with emotion. "The Nazis killed her. They killed her for teaching children in the underground schools." He did not try to hide the tears coursing down his face. "I suppose I should be grateful that they killed her quickly and didn't torture her." He faced Anna again. "You and Adam wouldn't be so lucky if you were caught. You are in the Home Army. The Nazis would want information from you. And they would do anything to get it."

"Michal," Anna said softly, "we all know what could happen to any of us. And we all believe that it is worth the risk."

He shook his head. "I promised Halina that I would take care of you and Adam."

"And *I* promised Halina that I would take care of *you*." She smiled gently. "To keep our promises, we will have to stay together. So the subject is closed for now." Anna took his arm. Together, they started back to the farmhouse that served as temporary headquarters for their Home Army unit. "The war might end soon, Michal," she commented. "Now that the Americans have joined the effort, things will have to get better."

"It will get worse -- much worse -- before it gets better, Anna. Maybe if the English and the Americans were closer, we would have a chance. But we have to rely on the Russians, and I don't trust them any more that I do the Germans." He paused. "I used to think that I would live to see Poland liberated. My family, safe in America, might be able to come back. Halina and I would marry and have our own family. Now -- now, the way things are, I don't think I will live through the war. And even if I do, there will be another struggle ahead of us. Russia will try to take over. And Poland will be weak from this war. But we will still need to fight."

"Sometimes, Michal, I think that *you* need to fight," observed Anna, only half-jokingly.

"Perhaps I do," he agreed. "Perhaps it is something in the Kostmayer blood. The only way we know to make things right." He chuckled to himself. "Maybe it's just our chance at immortality. To be remembered in battle. At least our families may remember us. My brother or sister might name a son after me."

Anna stopped to look at her friend. "I don't know if the world is ready for another Michal Kostmayer."

Michal laughed. "Maybe not now. But maybe -- just maybe -- someday."

End

This story was partly inspired by the book "The Struggles for Poland" by Neal Ascherson. But I was also intrigued by a line of Mickey Kostmayer's in the episode "The Cup." He told McCall about Polish families giving one son to the army. And I just figured that Mickey probably wasn't the first fighter in his family.